


Decisions That Matter

by AranthianPrincess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3696884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AranthianPrincess/pseuds/AranthianPrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after the Battle of Hogwarts the Second Wizarding War rages unchecked. Draco is caught in the middle, quickly becoming the Dark Lord's new favorite. This is not what he wants, so he makes a different choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decisions That Matter

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** ['That Picture'](http://alekina.tumblr.com/post/110998951140/he-wants-to-laugh-at-the-irony-he-really-does-as) is a work of and belongs to [alekina](http://alekina.tumblr.com/). The general non-profit, fair-use disclaimer for Harry Potter fanfiction and fanart applies.
> 
>  **Author's Notes** : I would like to thank vaysh for this amazing prompt. It's spawned a story a little darker than a usually write, but I'm finding myself loving this universe and these characters. I'm not making any promises, but I would love to write more of this story. Maybe some day I will.

**1 April 2003**

Draco let himself hang from the chains, both magical and Muggle. He was far too exhausted to do much more than listen as his captors discussed his fate. They ignored him, muttering to each other just loud enough for him to hear, but too quiet for him to distinguish actual words. It was annoying and would have had him grinding his teeth if he’d had the energy.

Finally, the group on the far side of the dungeon – and wasn’t that ironic? – broke apart and came to stand in front of him. Draco summoned the remains of his energy and lifted his head to look his captors in the eye. As he had expected, both Weasley and Granger stood there, Weasley’s expression as angry and hate-filled as ever. Granger looked as if she was trying to keep her face blank but kept losing control and having to wrench her expression back to indifferent. The overall effect left her looking rather twitchy.

McGonagall stood behind and to the right of Granger with a perfectly stern expression Granger must envy. Strangely, Draco found her the least terrifying of the five people standing there. Arthur Weasley stared at him from next to his son, hand on the taller man’s shoulder as if restraining him, but the calm anger in his expression terrified Draco. He couldn’t help remembering that this was the man, laughingstock or not, who had hit his father right in the middle of a crowded Flourish & Blotts in his second year.

Draco ignored all of them after a quick glance, choosing instead to focus on the person at the head of their group. Potter looked down at him with the blazing green eyes that haunted his dreams of Hogwarts. Draco nearly grimaced when he realized all those dreams were of him and Potter decidedly not getting along. Maybe antagonizing the Boy-Who-Lived wasn't as great an idea as he had thought at the time.

“We've decided to give you a chance, Malfoy,” Potter said. He kept his voice indifferent, a surprising feat since Draco remembered anger and defiance as an undercurrent to all his words at Hogwarts. “Some of us thought simply leaving you down here to rot would be enough, but the rest of us want to know why capturing you was so easy. If we're impressed you may earn some leniency.”

They thought his getting captured was easy? He'd like to see them try it.

“It all started nearly a year ago...”

~*~*~*~*~*~

**5 June 2002**

Draco had finally had enough. Working for the Dark Lord was nothing like he had imagined as a child at his father's knee. His skin had a pale, waxy complexion, well, paler than usual, except for the dark bruises under his eyes. These he could usually pass off as staying up late studying the war map and coming up with new strategies. The shaking hands he was forced to consciously still or hide whenever he found himself in the presence of even one other person. The added stress wasn't helping matters and, worst of all, his hair was starting to fall out.

That was the last straw. The constant stress and fear had grown to be too much, but he had to be careful. The Dark Lord didn't care about such trivial things like mental privacy. He would invade his followers' minds with Legilimency whenever the mood struck him. Sometimes a Death Eater could walk by him with an involuntary twitch and the Dark Lord would force his way into their mind just to see what that person was “hiding.” Draco's aunt Bellatrix would profess her love of the feeling after every time the Dark Lord's mind touched hers and fly into a crazed rage should anyone dare to not agree with her. Draco remembered vividly the one time, not long ago, when it had happened while he was present.

_Bellatrix came out of the experience with a dazed smile on her face, something Draco would later learn was her most common reaction. The second most common being a filthy moan no sane person would ever consider uttering in the presence of such a diverse audience. Draco had been the first person she saw when she opened her eyes and she had singled him out._

_“Dear Draco, isn't the touch of our lord's mind the most exhilarating?”_

_He had taken too long to respond, stunned speechless by the experience and his aunt's question. By this time, Draco was no stranger to submitting to the Dark Lord's Legillimency. He was always careful to hide the fledgling doubts and seeds of rebellion, keeping his Occlumency shields, thanks to Severus, strong and unobtrusive. Like Severus had told him constantly, it didn't help to have strong mental shields if the person you were hiding information from knew they were there. Severus never hesitated to remind him of the Dark Lord's most favorite method of information extraction, one Draco had been forced to enact far too many times himself. So Draco practiced until he was nearly as good as Severus, then he practiced even more when Severus was murdered by the Dark Lord, terrified the same fate would befall him. So, while his pulse raced every time the Dark Lord's mind ripped into his, Draco would not call the experiences exhilarating._

_“Do you disagree, Draco?” His aunt demanded, fingers already caressing her wand's handle as the Dark Lord watched with dark curiosity. Draco couldn't help but get the sense that what the Dark Lord really wanted to see was what his aunt would do if Draco didn't come up with a decent excuse for his lapse in time._

_“Forgive me, Aunt Bellatrix,” Draco said quickly, concentrating hard on keeping his voice steady. “I lost myself in the memories of my own experiences with our lord's magnificent mind. I shall endeavor not to allow it to break my concentration again for my aunt's convenience.”_

_Out of the corner of his eye Draco could see the small smirk the Dark Lord allowed himself at Draco's clever maneuvering. His aunt Bellatrix didn't notice, focusing completely on him. Her eyes held a mix of anger and well-hidden fear. Yes, she knew what he had done and even carried some fear of her Lord's reaction to the implication she might think herself better than him. Draco played his cards well. She couldn't punish him for his words with the Dark Lord present, or even in the future when the Dark Lord was away, because Draco was already well on his way to becoming a favored disciple and might someday even surpass his aunt's current status._

_“I would never ask such a thing of you, dear nephew,” Bellatrix forced out between gritted teeth. “Our lord is supreme, as are any thoughts of him. It is a great source of pride for me and my husband that at least one member of the Malfoy family knows greatness when he sees it.”_

_His aunt's expression morphed into a viper's grin at her return volley. Draco fought to control the outward signs of his anger. It was a cheap shot, but one she knew would cause him the most pain. Inwardly, Draco seethed. Favorite or not, the Dark Lord would not intercede on his behalf in a verbal battle of wills. Draco would have to force his aunt to back down on his own without raising the Dark Lord's ire. With visions of his once proud father's body lying broken at the Dark Lord's feet and the knowledge that his beautiful mother sat rotting in the dungeons at this very moment swimming in his thoughts Draco opened his mouth for a retaliatory strike._

_“Thank you, Aunt Bellatrix,” Draco said as politely as he could manage. “Father taught me well how to see what is obviously right in front of me. It is why he opened his home to our lord and why I continue to follow in his footsteps and welcome our lord in the home that has become his even more than it is mine. I am certain you would have done the same if the former Ministry hadn't seized all your assets when you were caught in the first war.”_

_“You little brat!” Bellatrix hissed, forgetting her audience. Draco wanted desperately to grin victoriously, but that would ruin said victory.”Your father was a sniveling coward and your mother betrayed our lord at every turn.”_

_“My mother,” Draco interrupted, allowing a hint of his anger to bleed through, steeling his voice. “Taught me the skills which I now use in service to the Dark Lord. Her tutelage and my father's example are what have made me the success that I am. My lord has not expressed any dissatisfaction with my performance. If I am currently above even his contention then I don't see how your opinion should matter. You have personally contributed very little to our lord's cause except that you allowed yourself to be arrested for your so-called loyalty instead of remaining free to answer his call when he returned. Unless, of course, dear Aunt Bella, you think to stand above our lord?”_

_It was now his aunt's turn to seethe with anger, though she did not hide it as well as he had. Draco was surprised at himself, not having known those words were buried inside him. Considering them later, he would recognize Severus in not only the words and tone, but in the tactical move they represented. His mother and father had taught him everything he needed to know to be a good servant to the Dark Lord, however unintentional, but it was Severus who had taught him to survive and it would be Severus who would inspire his rebellion._

_“Bellatrix,” the Dark Lord said quietly. His voice nevertheless calmed her and summoned her to his side as he no doubt intended. “You have lost this battle. Now you will await your punishment.”_

_“Punishment, my lord? Why? What have I done?” Bellatrix cried. Draco thought she feared the actual punishment less than she feared having ever disappointed the Dark Lord._

_“You forgot yourself and thought to stand equal to me. For that you will be punished. Draco, come forward,” the Dark Lord said, turning his attention on Draco._

_Though he couldn't keep from feeling the nerves he had always felt whenever under the Dark Lord's scrutiny or the fear whenever he thought he might be punished for the slightest offense, Draco stepped forward to face him, standing next to his aunt. He hoped it wouldn't be as bad as the last time the Dark Lord had punished him as a foolhardy teen. He hadn't been able to stop retching every time he thought about it for days afterward._

_“Yes, my lord?”_

_“You will act as my wand once more. Punish your aunt for her insolence,” the Dark Lord ordered._

_“Yes, my lord,” Draco said, bowing his head. “It would be my pleasure.”_

_He turned to Bellatrix who stood facing him. Her gaze never wavered, anger and hatred smoldering in the depths of her eyes. Everything she had just said about his parents flashed through his mind and Draco allowed himself a small, vengeful smirk. He would have to watch his back even more closely from now on and work harder to garner the Dark Lord's favor as another layer of protection, but it would be worth it for this moment._

_“My pleasure indeed,” Draco raised his wand. “Crucio.”_

Now Draco was sneaking down to the Manor's cellar where his mother was being held. He tried to do this as irregularly as possible so as not to get caught. If anyone found him down here there would be hell to pay, literally. So, though Draco and his mother both knew it would be safer for him not to visit her, neither one ever brought it up. Draco needed to see his mother to assure himself of her continued existence and to rekindle the hope that maybe someday they could figure a way out of this mess together. Narcissa knew that there was no way she could convince her son not to take the risks he spent so many years avoiding and, if she was willing to admit to it, his visits were a balm to her soul.

Usually their visits were uneventful. Draco would make some excuse to his hangers on and make his way quietly to the cellar-turned-dungeon. Sometimes he would bring food when he could snatch some, others he would be forced to go empty-handed. He didn't think the house elves were allowed to give as much food to the prisoners as they would normally like to give. They were always happy to turn their backs and let him take what little food he could secret into his pockets whenever he visited the kitchens. Privately, Draco thought it was because the first time he had begged them for food for his much-too-thin mother and they had put two and two together. Narcissa had always treated the elves well. They did more for her than they did for anyone else in the house, except perhaps Draco himself.

Today he managed to get his hands on a crust of bread and a small hunk of cheese. In a rare show of rebellion, the elves had even left out a bottle of pumpkin juice charmed against breaking. Draco took the items and whispered a thanks to the house elves that they pretended not to hear and left for his mother's cell.

Sneaking past the guards posted at the entrance had been daunting at first, but after the third time Draco walked right by them under a Disillusionment Charm without their noticing he realized they were more for show and an early warning of escape than to actually guard the prisoners. No one ever accused the average Death Eater of being intelligent. And, of course, the guards never entered the dungeons themselves, nor were any posted inside. Draco was glad of that since it allowed him and his mother some privacy.

He stopped between them, just in front of the door, and cast a wordless Levitation Charm on a loose stone in the floor. That little piece of granite had been the downfall of many a person traversing this corridor, literally. Unaware Death Eaters tripped over it constantly, especially when drunk on Firewhisky. Fortunately, Draco had lived here all his life and was well aware of the recalcitrant stone, not to mention sober enough to remember and avoid it. Now it came in handy when distracting these Death Eater half-wits long enough for him to open the door, slip inside, and close it again.

Draco took the stairs slowly, wary not only of the dark, but also of making any noise that might alert the guards he had just outwitted to his presence. Years of practical experience had finally got through his thick skull and taught him that survival was a waiting game based on stealth and that only worked if one kept silent and out of sight. Of course, there was no one around to see him except for his mother. Right now he need only concentrate on not bounding down the steps in eager anticipation.

“Mother? Are you there?” Draco said quietly into the darkness once he reached the bottom of the stairs, but instead of his mother's customary “where else would I be, Draco” there was only silence. “Mother?”

_“Petrificus Totalus!”_

Draco's entire body froze, legs snapping together and arms clamping to his sides. His muscles tensed against his will, whether to keep him still or fight against the spell he couldn't tell, as Draco lost his balance and fell backward. The wall stopped his descent, though his head would not be thanking him later. Draco noticed distantly that the Full-Body Bind did not prevent the tears of pain welling up in his eyes as his head cracked against stone and continued to throb as he leaned there.

“Coming to visit your mother, Commander?” A familiar woman's voice slithered out from the shadows, followed a moment later by Bellatrix herself.

“Draco, no!” Narcissa cried from the floor of her cell. She was weak, but alive. Draco's relief displaced his fear at his current predicament. At least his mother was safe.

“How long have you been coming 'round for these little visits, dear nephew? I do hope your loyalty to our lord has not wavered.”

“He hasn't been down here before. This is the first I've seen of him since the Dark Lord returned from the Battle of Hogwarts,” Narcissa spoke. Draco was grateful for the spell on him preventing him from flinching involuntarily at the iciness in his mother's tone. “He's such an ungrateful, spoiled child never thinking of anyone but himself. He probably thought to come down here and win some extra consideration from the Dark Lord for himself.”

“Is that true, Draco?” Bellatrix asked, but she didn't sound convinced. Draco didn't know what she expected of him or if his aunt had conveniently forgotten she had cast a spell that prevented him from talking. It was probably the latter. “I think it's not. I think the Dark Lord's new pet has been sneaking down here for months to visit with the true object of his loyalty. This traitorous wretch.”

Draco strained against his invisible bonds, eyes blazing untold fury when Bellatrix spit on the floor right next to his mother. To Narcissa's credit, she didn't flinch away or try to dodge. Instead, she sat there, face blank, as regal as when this house was still hers to rule over. The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters may have taken her freedom, but they could not steal her pride no matter how hard they tried.

“I can see by the look in your eyes, young Draco, that I am correct,” Bellatrix continued casually. “I have spoken to our lord and he has ordered me to remove any negative influence from his most promising young disciple. He can not have your loyalty be in question. Do you understand?”

Draco could feel his eyes wanting to grow wide, but the spell refused to allow them free reign. Bellatrix grinned devilishly, her wand arm slowly rising until it was leveled at Narcissa. The smile never left her face as she slowly enunciated the two words Draco feared the most.

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

A flash of green he was helpless to close his eyes against filled Draco's vision. When the world finally cleared and went back to the gloom typical of a dungeon Draco saw his worst nightmare turned into reality. Narcissa lay sprawled on the stone floor, blonde hair covered in grime like a halo around her head. She looked elegant, even in death. Bellatrix had done the worst thing imaginable. She had murdered her own sister, Draco's mother. And Draco hadn't even been allowed to say goodbye.

Bellatrix waved her wand and Draco found himself floating, still bound. She whispered in his ear as she walked past, bewitching him to follow her.

“Happy birthday, Draco.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

**1 April 2003**

“She took me to the Dark Lord after that,” Draco said tiredly. “I don't remember what happened then. One of my assistants said I was out for several days. He was even less happy about it than I was. The Dark Lord ended up killing him for his failure at the Battle of Canary Wharf.”

“Why him and not you?” Potter asked. He still stood, though he had come closer as Draco's story progressed. Draco could tell he was intrigued, if a bit horrified by the tale so far. “You were the one in charge of the regiment, according to our intelligence.”

“That is correct. I was put in charge of my own regiment in the early stages of the war. The Dark Lord thought it would be a fitting punishment for my family and I to watch me fail and be killed in battle. I don't think he expected me to succeed. He underestimated my determination. We both did.”

“That doesn't answer my question,” Potter pointed out.

“I was given a special assignment immediately after the battle started, which I accomplished, by the way. My assistant was given temporary command over my regiment and failed. I believe you won that particular battle, yes?”

“As I recall, the Muggles thought it was a terrorist attack and evacuated the entire area and London proper,” Granger said.

“Yes, the Dark Lord was not happy about being compared to common Muggles. Now that I think of it, that's probably part of the reason why my assistant died,” Draco mused, lifting his shoulders in what would have been a shrug is his wrists weren't secured above his head. “Better him than me.”

“What does this have to do with his supposed defection?” Weasley demanded. His face was starting to turn red. Potter, by contrast, watched Draco thoughtfully. “Do we really need to listen to the ferret tell us his life story? He's obviously the enemy. Let's just send him to one of the outlying bases and keep him there until someone remembers he exists and lets him out.”

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but Granger and Potter got there first.

“He might be telling the truth, Ron. He could help us win if he really does have the information he says he has,” Granger pointed out. She glared at him like it was his fault she was defending him. “It costs us nothing to hear him out. If he's wrong we can decide on a fitting punishment then.”

“We'll keep him locked up until we can get the whole story and confirm it,” Potter decided, then he looked at Draco. He wondered if that was a glimmer of sympathy he saw in Potter's green eyes or just a figment of his imagination. “Get him some food and we'll discuss this further tomorrow.”

One by one they filed out, Potter first, and left Draco alone still dangling by his chains. Granger left last, pausing outside his door just long enough to order one of his guards to bring him something to eat before she too disappeared down the corridor.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**2 April 2003**

Draco was asleep when they came back. He jerked awake at the sound of his cell door slamming shut behind them. Blinking blearily up at them, took several more moments than he would have liked noticing only three people stood there. Strangely, both Weasleys were absent. Draco would have asked after them, but he didn't care enough to waste his breath on the ginger menaces. Besides, he felt much more comfortable talking about his recent past without them present.

“Alright, Malfoy, you told us how all this began, but what does that have to do with your sudden decision to defect?”

Granger was talking now. Draco wondered briefly if it had something to do with Potter's surly mood. Maybe the Chosen One felt a kind of kinship with him now because of their shared orphanhood? That was probably too much to hope for, but Draco found himself falling into the trap anyway.

“Losing one's parents at the hand of a madman isn't enough of a reason for you?” Draco spat back at her. He hadn't intended to, but her insinuation that losing his parents wasn't enough of a motivator for him and his own weakness frayed his control. To Granger's credit, she did look a bit ashamed of her tactless wording.

“That is a particularly powerful motivator, Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall cut in. She sounded like this was just another day in her classroom. Draco found he didn't much mind being treated like a student again. “Consider Mrs. Granger-Weasley's question an exercise in logic.”

Granger-Weasley? Draco wondered what had happened there and when, but he had more important business to attend to first.

“Very well. It was just after the Battle of Canary Wharf...”

~*~*~*~*~*~

**6 September 2002**

Two days after their most recent loss the Dark Lord called his most trusted followers to assemble before him. Among them, somewhat ironically, was Draco. His assistant, some bloke by the name of Bangerton, stood beside him all smug. Draco didn't know why. They had lost. Whatever the Dark Lord wanted it couldn't be good.

“Why do you think he called this meeting, Commander?” Bangerton asked excitedly.

“Calm down, Bangerton,” Draco ordered in the monotone that had become the norm for him since his mother's death. “We lost the last battle. Rewards are not in order today.”

Bangerton's expression returned to it's blank mask then. “Yes, sir.”

“Attention, you gormless wankers!” Bellatrix shouted to the assembly at large, causing several people to stir and mutter angrily. Draco ignored all of them. “Our lord speaks!”

“My loyal followers, I come to you grievously disappointed,” the Dark Lord began. The slow, pseudo-seductive way he spoke always sent chills up and down Draco's spine. “One amongst you has failed me.”

A hush fell over the crowd. Several hunched down involuntarily, as though making themselves smaller would help them avoid their Lord's wrath. Bellatrix bared her teeth gleefully, above fear as she stood by the Dark Lord. Her gaze traveled around the room, resting an extra beat on Draco. He ignored her as usual. She had already done the worst she could do to him. Nothing else she did could affect him.

“The Muggles think our magnificent battle with Potter's ragtag bunch of Muggle-lovers and bloodtraitors was the work of common Muggle terrorists,” the Dark Lord declared. The obligatory uproar rose from the crowd. “Yes, my followers. This is unacceptable. A wizard could never be so common as Muggle terrorists. Our superiority is in question. All because of one man.”

“Who betrayed us, my lord?” Someone called from the crowd.

“An excellent question. He stands among us this very moment,” the Dark Lord declared and everyone started eying each other, trying to figure out who the traitor was. “I shall not leave my most loyal followers guessing at the wolf amongst us.” He pointed dramatically. “Bangerton! Step forward!”

An outraged roar burst from the gathered Death Eaters, powerful enough to make Draco worry distantly about the structural integrity of the manor. Beside him Bangerton stood frozen. People were starting to push closer, shoving at him and getting Draco by mistake. Not interested in being trampled by a mob, Draco stepped out of the way and watched, expression carefully blank, as Bangerton was forced forward.

“Your poor leadership of the Seventh Pureblood Regiment led not only to a disadvantageous battle, but contributed directly to our loss. For this betrayal, the highest punishment must be meted out and I have decided to give the honors to your commanding officer. Draco, come forward and end this threat.”

Draco stepped forward as commanded, bowing his head to the Dark Lord. “Yes, my lord.”

“Please, Commander. It was one mistake. I swear it won't happen again,” Bangerton pleaded.

“It is unfortunate, Bangerton, but I assure you, you will never make the same mistake after tonight,” Draco said, his voice never wavering. In the tiny part of his brain still focused on the wider world, he knew what he was about to do could not bode well for his future, but the rest was still consumed with trying to make sense of this parent-less world he had found himself trying to survive in. “Avada Kedavra.”

Bangerton dropped like a stone and the Dark Lord praised him for his loyalty and competence on and off the battlefield. Somewhere in the haze Draco thought he may even have been given a promotion, such as those were. His rank technically didn't change, but he was given more responsibilities and held in higher esteem by the Dark Lord.

“You shall make a great addition to my inner circle, young Draco,” the Dark Lord murmured seductively into his ear as the room emptied out. “One day you may even rise to become my right hand, the most loyal of all my followers.”

“It would be the highest honor, my lord,” Draco replied levelly, but inside he was finally waking up.

Left alone in the room, Draco realized for the first time where this path he was on led. His father and his mentor had walked this path before him and both were many years dead. Perhaps it was time he took a different leaf out of Professor Snape's book. This life was not what he had imagined, but even from the grave Severus once again saved him before he went too far.

It was time Draco begged Potter for mercy. Only the Boy-Who-Lived could protect a traitor from the unholy wrath of the Dark Lord.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**2 April 2003**

“Of course, the next step was planning my escape. The Dark Lord couldn't know that I had defected, at least not immediately. I had to make it look convincing, like I had been overwhelmed fighting for him and was captured or, even better, killed in the battle,” Draco explained. Potter, Granger, and McGonagall stood enraptured by his story. “I also had to have information to barter for protection. Something that I had fairly easy access to and that I could memorize to keep my actions beneath suspicion.”

“I take it you managed both these feats, Mr. Malfoy?” McGonagall asked, again like she was leading a class.

“I accomplished the second for certain. The first remains to be seen. Unfortunately, if you want confirmation of it's success you will have to look to your own intelligence service. I am regrettably unable to give you that information at this time. I'm a little tied up at the moment.”

Potter eyed him for a moment then waved his wand almost casually. The Muggle chains fell from his wrists with a clatter and the magical bonds vanished, allowing Draco's body to slump forward gracelessly. He grunted in pain, massaging his wrists to get the blood flowing normally again. His hands prickled uncomfortably, but Draco ignored the feeling. Instead, he looked questioningly up at Potter.

“I see no reason to keep you in chains. You can't escape from this cell even if I believed you wanted to,” he said.

“You believe me?” Draco asked, accidentally allowing his astonishment through. McGonagall raised an eyebrow and Granger studied him for any sudden movements, but Potter was unfazed.

“Let's just say I'm curious. I will return to hear the rest of your story later.”

All three of them swept out of the cell, leaving Draco alone with his thoughts yet again. He wondered at the stop-and-go method of extracting his story, but far be it for him to judge his captors' strategies. As long as it worked out in his favor, Draco didn't care how they got their information.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**3 April 2003**

Draco was awake when he came. Potter strode in with the confidence Draco had so often mistaken for arrogance while at school. He briefly wondered if it was day or night this time since the lack of windows in his cell made it difficult to keep track of time. Strangely, no one followed Potter inside. Draco wondered if this was an actual show of arrogance on Potter's part, believing his prisoner was no threat to the great Chosen One. Possibly it was a show of faith, something Draco had had little experience with, that Draco would not harm him.

“Alone today, Potter?” Draco commented, trying to sound casual but fearing some of his longtime mask of nastiness forced its way through.

“They have other duties to attend to,” Potter said without malice. Fortunately, Draco hadn't managed to offend or alienate him just yet. “I'll be hearing the next part of your story today.”

“It's the last part, I'm afraid. I don't have much left to tell.”

“Then tell the rest. I'm listening,” Potter took a seat in front of Draco and crossed his legs.

“I had found my determination, now all I needed was a plan...”

~*~*~*~*~*~

**7 September 2002**

Draco had finally rediscovered his resolve. The months after his mother's death was time he would never get back, but that only meant he would have to work harder and more swiftly than before to accomplish his goals. There was no one left he could trust and many more people that he had to be wary of. Draco was literally in the middle of a lion's den.

He sat in his room, the only place in the manor that hadn't yet been sullied by the presence of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, beginning to form a plan. Nothing of this virgin plan could be written down, not even the information he knew he would need to trade for his life. To get that information he would have to enact the first step of his plan: Make himself invaluable to the Dark Lord and gain his confidence. If this failed, then he would lose everything. It all hinged on this first step.

Standing, Draco left behind the relative safety of his room and strode purposefully down the corridors. The Dark Lord could always be found in his father's old study studying maps and intelligence reports in the hope that today would be the day he finally crushed Potter's pitiful little resistance. Many of the Death Eaters admired the Dark Lord's obsession, but Draco saw it for the opportunity it was.

He stopped in front of the door, sneered at the guards posted there, and knocked. Inside, a distracted voice called for him to enter. Draco did so without hesitation and stepped into the room, remembering his mother's instruction to never show weakness when you want something. A show of confidence could work wonders on a person's indecisiveness.

“Ah, Draco, what can I do for you?” The Dark Lord said in that uncomfortably seductive whisper he thought made him sound more like his late pet snake. Granted, it did send shivers down Draco's spine like Potter talking to his conjured snake in second year had, but for entirely different reasons.

Bellatrix stood at the Dark Lord's shoulder, all but snarling at Draco for the interruption. He could tell she wanted to rebuke him for interrupting her lord's valuable time, but couldn't since the Dark Lord had already welcomed him quite graciously. Instead, she settled for a venomous glare that could have competed with the Killing Curse for its potency.

“I was recounting the last battle just now to see if I could find the weaknesses I'm sure Potter's army has,” Draco said, injecting his voice with as much of the arrogant pureblood mask he had once worn as a child. “I believe I have found something that may be of use to my lord.”

“What could you possibly have discovered that the Dark Lord has not?” Bellatrix hissed, leaning forward aggressively.

“Now, now, Bellatrix. Let the boy speak.”

Draco bowed his head gratefully. “In my lord's great wisdom, he leads from a distance so that he may see the overall battle and direct his loyal followers accordingly. What I have discovered is that Potter is not as wise. He leads from the front, my lord, fighting shoulder to shoulder with common soldiers. If one could find and kill him during the battle, it would be a certain victory.”

“They wouldn't dare leave their last hope of defeating our lord defenseless. Surely he is surrounded by that Mudblood and all those bloodtraitors even in battle,” Bellatrix sneered.

“He is not, my lord,” Draco insisted, ignoring his aunt completely. “I saw him fighting like one of them. It would be a great opportunity to catch him when he is least expecting it.”

“An intriguing strategy, young Draco,” the Dark Lord said thoughtfully. “I will send my spies to confirm this information. You may go.”

Draco bowed and left, doing his absolute best not to grin like a madman.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**3 April 2003**

“You sound very proud of yourself,” Potter commented.

“It's not an easy feat to manipulate the Dark Lord.”

“No, I imagine it isn't,” Potter agreed. “But why me?”

Draco frowned. “What do you mean why you?”

“Why did you choose me to distract Voldemort with?”

“Several reasons,” Draco said, failing to suppress a flinch.. He thought they were rather obvious, but if Potter had to ask... “Everyone knows the Dark Lord is obsessed with you even more now than before the Battle of Hogwarts. Simply mentioning your name snares all his attention, so I knew giving him the chance to defeat you once and for all would keep his focus on that goal and off of me. Besides, I needed both of us to be in the same place at the same time when I was defeated to ensure my capture.”

“You thought I would be more likely to capture you than kill you?” Potter said incredulously.

“I admit it was a bit of a gamble, but you had saved me before,” Draco admitted. This seemed to give Potter pause. “And I knew that the information I gave the Dark Lord about you was true. I had seen you fighting side-by-side with your soldiers on the battlefield. I just didn't mention that you hardly needed your schoolyard bodyguards.”

“I'll take that as a compliment,” Potter muttered. Draco smiled for the first time in months. It was a small one, but it was a smile nonetheless.

“It was meant as one.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Malfoy.”

“That's why I brought a wondrous tale of suspense and intrigue,” Draco quipped.

“It's not really all that suspenseful since I already know how it ends,” Potter pointed out with his own grin. “It is intriguing, though. So, tell me more.”

“Alright. About two months later...”

~*~*~*~*~*~

**28 October 2002**

The Dark Lord called Draco to come before him and his most trusted Death Eaters, including Bellatrix. The first thought that entered Draco's head was that the Dark Lord had some how found out about his treachery and was bringing him before his council only to have him summarily executed, but no guards had been sent to escort him. Draco was being trusted to come voluntarily, which didn't really mean anything except it helped him to regain his control.

Draco paused just outside the dining room where the Dark Lord held his council, stepping through when the Death Eaters standing guard opened the oak double doors for him.

“Draco Malfoy reporting as ordered, my lord,” the senior guard said, closing the doors behind him.

“Draco, my dear boy, come stand before me,” the Dark Lord commanded.

Draco did as ordered, standing at the opposite end of his family's dining table from the Dark Lord. Death Eaters sat along the sides, separating him from their lord. With enemies at his front and rear, Draco couldn't help feeling like a rabbit caught by a hunting dog in its burrow. Still, he stood confidently, as though he was truly the loyal Death Eater he pretended to be and had absolutely no reason to fear his lord.

“I thought you would like to know that your information proved accurate and your efforts to further our cause will be rewarded.”

“It was an honor to be of service, my lord,” Draco said, bowing. “But if I may make a request?”

The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes. “Make it.”

“I would ask that my reward be participation in the mission that eliminates Potter.”

“What makes you think you should be allowed to participate in such an important mission?” Bellatrix jumped in, cutting off a few of the others who had started to speak.

“Two reasons, Aunt Bellatrix. Reason number one, I was the one who brought this information to our lord's attention. And two, because Potter and I were rivals at school. I know how he thinks and am uniquely suited to combat him. While he is distracted trying to destroy his old rival, our lord will have an assured opening,” Draco explained, staring her down.

The Dark Lord watched them with amusement before calling a halt to the brewing argument just as Bellatrix opened her mouth. “Be still, Bellatrix. Draco is correct on all counts. If he desires to have a role in the upcoming battle, then I shall grant him the opportunity to prove himself once again.”

Draco inclined his head slowly. “Thank you, my lord. I shall not fail you.”

“See that you don't,” the Dark Lord warned. “Winter is coming and with it a slowing of troop movements. We will use this time to gather intelligence. Draco will be called back to join us once the planning of the mission begins later in the winter. Dismissed.”

Chairs scraped against the wood floor as people stood. Draco slipped out ahead of the crowd, striding swiftly down the corridor. He had four months to memorize as much of the defenses and Death Eater movements as possible before he implemented the last, most difficult, step of his plan: Defecting from the Dark Lord. Draco still wasn't sure how he was going to pull that off yet, adding it to his mental list of details to iron out as soon as possible. There was a lot to do and very little time to do it in.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**3 April 2003**

“I assume you remember what happened next,” Draco said as he leaned back against the stone wall. “It did just happen a few days ago.”

“Yes,” Potter said, rolling his eyes. “You somehow manipulated everyone around you and got yourself captured by me so you could offer me this story, some potentially vital information that could change the entire tide of the war, and earn yourself not only my trust but my protection.”

Draco nodded. “That about sums it up. It's all up to you now.”

Potter stood, watching him thoughtfully. “At least you're being honest about it. I'll tell the rest of my advisers this latest piece of your story and return with our decision.”

“Sure. Why not? I've been here for several days already, one more isn't going to kill me,” Draco shrugged.

He thought he saw an amused smile twitch at the corner of Potter's lips, but it vanished as soon as it appeared and Draco dismissed the thought. This was the moment of truth, either he had succeeded in getting Potter to believe him or he hadn't. Only time would tell.

Potter gave a quick nod of his head and left, the cell door making an ominous sound of finality as it slammed behind him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**4 April 2003**

The next person to visit him was quite the surprise. Granger strode through the door all business, focused entirely on whatever her current goal was. Draco watched her curiously and tried not to let his nervousness show. She stopped just in front of him, staring down her nose with a stern expression that reminded Draco of a younger McGonagall.

“I'm going to get straight to the point,” she said, not even pausing long enough for Draco to say anything. “Harry told us the last part of your story. He is willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but the rest of us are understandably wary of trusting you without knowing exactly what information you've supposedly brought us.”

“I can tell you that,” Draco interrupted. Granger glared at him, but gestured for him to continue. “I memorized the defenses and troop movements at Malfoy Manor.”

“What does that do for us?”

Draco raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Malfoy Manor is still the Dark Lord's base of operations. I know the only reason you haven't attacked it yet is because you can't figure out what the defenses are or how to circumvent them. That's where I come in.”

“How do you know that's our reason for not attacking the manor?” Granger questioned. “Maybe we have a different reason.”

“I certainly hope you don't or I might have to try taking my chances with the Dark Lord's notoriously absent mercy. I didn't think your intelligence gathering forces were that inept.”

“Just answer the question, Malfoy, or I'll go back to the council and tell them you refused our offer of protection.”

“Very well,” Draco acquiesced, bowing his head. “It's logic based on the assumption that you did, in fact, know where the Dark Lord resided. If you know where he is and that his death or capture would practically win you the war, then why would you not attempt it? The only reason not to do so is if you think you can't complete the mission. Why would you think that? You have enough manpower to infiltrate and kill the Dark Lord, which must mean you don't have all the information you need to infiltrate the place where he resides. So, I gained the Dark Lord's trust, kept my eyes and ears open, then escaped, bringing the information to you and your resistance. As a bonus, I also memorized the Dark Lord's movements within the grounds.”

“Okay, say your conclusion is correct, how do we know this information won't change?” Granger asked. Draco shrugged.

“There is always the chance that the Dark Lord will suddenly decide to change things around, but it's unlikely. His arrogance aside, the Dark Lord is surprisingly a creature of habit. I seriously doubt even my disappearance will make him change any of the information I got away with.”

“Very well,” Granger said with a regal air Draco would never have expected of her. “I will take this information back to the council. I assume this information includes your participation in the mission should it be undertaken?”

“Naturally.”

“Of course. I will tell them that as well,” she agreed and turned to leave, pausing just at the door. “One more thing, Malfoy. In order for your request to be fulfilled and our protection offered, you will have to join Harry's army.”

“I thought as much,” Draco admitted. “I decided long ago that it was a price I am willing to pay.”

“I'm afraid you don't understand,” she continued, ignoring Draco's rather noble declaration. “Members of this army, of this resistance, as you put it, carry on their persons a mark declaring their loyalty to the cause and to Harry. It is a mark that supersedes all others. You will not be an exception. Just as Harry bears the lightning bolt scar, so will you bear his lightning bolt on your skin, though none will be able to see it unless you choose to reveal it and, thus, your true loyalties.”

“I've already been marked once,” Draco said. “And it was a terrible experience. I don't see how this one could be any worse.”

Granger nodded. “I agree. I will tell them that you are willing to commit your life to our cause.”

Draco thought about contradicting her last statement, after all, that was not what he had said, but decided against it. He appeared to be getting what he wanted, so he shut up and let Granger leave. It wouldn't be much longer now.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**5 April 2003**

When his guards opened the door and Draco didn't see Potter or one of his representatives, he thought maybe it was time to eat again, though he remembered them bringing him food not that long ago.

“Stand up, the general has ordered you be brought before the council,” the senior guard said.

Draco did as he was told and followed the older man out of his cell and down the corridor. His partner, a woman who had to be around Draco's age, fell into step behind them, keeping her wand trained on him in case he tried to escape. Though annoyed at being treated like the prisoner he was, Draco felt his respect for these people's professionalism climb up another notch. They knew what they were doing.

Several staircases and many twisting corridors later Draco's guards stopped in front of a plain wooden door completely unremarkable in every way. His guard opened the door and gestured him inside. Draco took a deep breath and stepped into the room, raised voices and all. The argument sounded like it had been going on for a while now with neither side gaining the upper hand. He stood there for several long seconds before anyone noticed him.

“I don't care what he said,” Potter shouted angrily. Draco couldn't remember ever seeing him that furious before and wondered what could possibly have set him off. “You know we've never cast that spell on someone with the Dark Mark. No one knows what will happen. It could kill him!”

“You don't know that, Harry,” Granger said. She sounded a lot calmer than Draco would have been in the face of Potter's anger. It felt weird having Potter angry on his behalf. At least, Draco thought it was his behalf. He was the only one he knew here with a Dark Mark. “I'm sure he'll be fine. Besides, he already agreed to do it.”

“Under duress!” Potter yelled back. “This is no different than what Voldemort did to him. He doesn't really have a choice.”

“She's right. I did agree to it.”

A hushed silence fell as the five people seated around the round wooden table in the center of the room turned to stare at him. Draco squashed the urge to fidget under such scrutiny and instead focused on Potter's advisory council. Everyone from the first day sat there. Both the elder and younger Weasley, Granger, McGonagall, and Potter sat speechless. Finally, Potter gestured for him to come forward, which Draco did.

“Hermione neglected to give you all the facts when she made her offer,” he said earnestly. “We've never cast the spell she told you about on someone with the Dark Mark. No one knows how the two spells will interact. It could very well cause permanent damage or even kill you.”

Draco got the strangest impression that Potter wanted him to refuse this latest mark, but he couldn't pinpoint why. Ignoring the feeling, he concentrated on convincing Potter that he did, in fact, want this.

“I understand, but I can't go back,” he said, looking right into Potter's eyes to the exclusion of everyone else in the room. Potter was the one he needed to convince. “I wouldn't even if I could. I told you my story. It's time I made the stand I should have made six years ago.”

Draco could see when Potter gave in. The fury in his eyes cooled and his shoulders sagged. A heavy sigh only confirmed Potter's acquiescence.

“I don't like it, but I will respect your decision. Hermione, return his wand.”

Granger stood and walked around the table to where Draco stood between Potter and McGonagall. His hawthorn wand, the one he thought lost to him forever, held loosely in her hand as she offered it to him. Draco took it carefully, questioning eyes landing on a very sheepish Potter.

“You're going to be one of us now. I thought you might like your wand back,” Potter shrugged.

“But, this is...”

“I guess I just never had the heart to get rid of it. Good thing I didn't, right?”

“Yeah...”

Draco followed Potter in a daze, caressing his wand as Potter positioned him for his second marking. Potter was gentle about it, touching him freely on the arms, back, and shoulders to get Draco to stand where he wanted. When Draco came back to himself he realized he was standing opposite Potter in front of the two portraits that Draco had only briefly noticed behind Potter's seat at the table. Now he took the opportunity to study them more closely. One portrait held Dumbledore as Draco had expected, but the real surprise was the second frame housing Severus, who nodded his acknowledgment.

“Every member of my council bears witness to each Marking Ceremony I perform,” Potter explained. “Because I bear a visible lightning bolt, I mark you with it's twin. Your lightning bolt will remain invisible until you choose to reveal it. This is the symbol of your loyalty to me and to my fight against Voldemort. As my battles are yours, so yours become mine. Do you agree?”

Draco nodded. “I do.”

“Very well. You might want to look away now,” Potter said.

He stepped closer, wand in hand, and gestured for Draco to give him his arm. Draco did so, rolling up his left sleeve to bear the Dark Mark. Potter didn't even flinch, just raised his free hand and pressed it to the back of Draco's head, turning his face away.

“This might hurt. I'm sorry,” Potter whispered. A chill ran up Draco's spine. This felt weirdly intimate, but in a good way. Much better than the Dark Lord's uncomfortably seductive hiss. _“Levitas!”_

Nothing happened at first and Draco tried to look to see if something went wrong, but Potter kept his head firmly bowed and his face turned away even as Draco could see him staring intensely at the Dark Mark out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly, a screaming pain raced up his arm from the Dark Mark and Draco felt himself echoing it. Potter glanced at him worriedly and made shushing sounds as chairs scraped against the hard floor in the background.

Draco was shaking and trying hard not to scream again, making little whimpering noises instead. Potter released his head then, wrapping his arm around him and holding him against his own body to keep Draco standing. Weak and in pain, Draco found the action comforting and laid his head on Potter's shoulder, careful to angle it so he could at least see what was going on.

The skull of the Dark Mark had turned inky black, the skin surrounding it an angry red. The snake rose up and hissed at Potter. It swayed hypnotically, readying itself to strike and Draco was suddenly afraid for Potter's safety. He tried to push the heroic idiot away to safety, but Potter stubbornly refused to release him.

“Just wait, Draco. It'll be fine,” he reassured.

Not if you're dead, you idiot, Draco thought, but he didn't get a chance to voice it.

A bright flash blinded him momentarily. As dark spots danced across his vision, Draco watched a bolt of lightning appear from out of thin air and strike the snake. The magic screeched just as Draco gasped, in too much pain to actually make a sound. The snake stilled and turned to ash, finally crumbling and taking the pain with it.

Draco continued to lean against Potter, his eyes closed and breaths heavy. Potter didn't push him away, so Draco didn't feel the need to rush to stand on his own. When he finally felt steady enough to stand without falling over, Draco pulled away and looked down at the Dark Mark. It had faded to an ashy gray with a jagged crack right down the middle.

“Like a bolt of lightning,” Draco mused wonderingly.

“Yeah, that doesn't usually happen,” Potter muttered, rubbing the back of his own head. Draco noticed he was flushed a bright pink, but didn't say anything. “Are you ready to finally end this war?”

Draco nodded. “Give me a moment?”

“Of course.”

Potter herded the others out of the room, closing the door behind him and leaving Draco alone. Well, almost alone. He turned to face Dumbledore's portrait first.

“I just wanted to say that you were right, Professor, and I should have seen it sooner,” Draco said, not quite able to meet the headmaster's twinkling eyes. “If I had listened to you six years ago on the Astronomy Tower, then my parents might still be alive. Who knows? This war might even have been over for years by now. I'm sorry. And thank you for believing in me.”

“Of course, dear boy. I knew you would come around,” Dumbledore said. “The circumstances are regrettable, but you can still make your parents proud by doing what they could not. You have already made an excellent start. Now, if you'll excuse me, Sir Cadogan promised quite an adventure after lunch.”

Dumbledore winked at him and walked out of the side of the frame. Draco felt a weight he hadn't realized was there lift off his shoulders. It felt like he could breathe just that little bit easier. Draco took advantage and breathed deeply before turning to the other portrait.

“Thank you, Severus,” he whispered. The surly potions master raised one questioning eyebrow.

“Whatever for?”

“For saving me yet again. If it wasn't for you I would still be in the Dark Lord's clutches. So, thank you.”

Severus nodded sedately then looked over Draco's shoulder as the door opened again.

“Come on, Draco! We've got a war to win!” Potter called, more excited than Draco had ever seen him.

“Coming,” Draco called back, casting one last look at his mentor, and turned away.

He walked across the room, feeling a hopeful warmth surround him. Draco looked up, surprised when he saw the sun in a beautiful blue, cloudless sky instead of the ceiling. Probably Granger's handiwork. The sight brought a smile to his face, a smile that only grew wider when he caught Potter smiling at his reaction.

It was time to go. They had a war to win.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are very welcome. You may leave them here or over at [Livejournal](http://hd-remix.livejournal.com/87906.html).


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